Crystalline
by Senashenta
Summary: Moya dreams of another time and place; an endless beach, blood on her hands and a Phoenix manifesting from the washing tides. Her Companion assures her they are nothing but nightmares... but now something from the past is fast approaching, and soon her dreams will feel all too real once again. (Co-authored with Arach and Kierseth.)
1. Crystal Fire

**Disclaimer:** Valdemar and concepts belong to Mercedes Lackey; this fic and original characters belong to Senashenta and/or Arach and/or Kierseth. :)

**Notes:** This fic was originally started as a round-robin writing game at an old rp I was in (Stealing Hearts, run by Firefox); we only ever got a prologue and two chapters in, though. Still, I like the ideas in it, so I'm picking up where we left off years ago to work on writing more of CD.

The original title was _"Crystal Kumani",_ but I'm not very fond of that (despite the fact that I'm the one who came up with it in the first place), so I'm changing it now. :P lol.

**CRYSTALLINE  
Prologue: Crystal Fire  
By Senashenta**

Hypnotic.

That was the term to describe the swelling of the water before her, Moya Velkya decided absently, as her chocolate brown eyes swept the seemingly endless shoreline of Misish Island. Beyond her sight, the Icepack Sea spanned the horizon—and aside from the occasional splash of a fish, everything was still and silent.

This was what she liked the most—being alone with the sea, and feeling the wind, awash with the scent of the winter to come, as it skipped across the sand. But moments like that were rare and few... which was why she treasured them the way she did. Moya had learned at a young age that the world was harsh and cruel—but somehow, with the breeze and the sea, if not with humanity, she could pretend that there was room for forgiveness.

With a sad air, her fingers traced down the pattern of scars that marred her left shoulder and arm... a rose vine design, which _he_ had said suited a lovely flower such as herself. It matched the petal marks that had been burned into a circle around her left eye, accented by her shoulder length strawberry blonde hair.

The knife that was held loosely in her other hand slipped, dropping to the ground with a muffled thump, and the sand shifted around it almost nervously. The blood that coated the same hand dripped down to join the growing pool at her feet.

_The sun will set soon..._

The night would conceal what she had done, but not for long. Soon—too soon—someone would notice that both she and the Lord were missing, and when they set out to find them, her sin would be discovered. A death now rested on her soul, and somewhere in the depths of her mind she knew that she had just condemned herself to Hell.

—and yet—

—somehow—

—she did not feel remorse—

A feather touch on her ankle made her look down.

Bright eyes stared back, and a paw tugged at the hem of her skirt. Her arms felt heavy, but Moya bent and picked Resshin up—his leathery wings fluttered anxiously, and he blinked compassionate green orbs at her. Confusion seemed to radiate from him, and he kept turning, whiskers twitching, to look toward where the Lord's body lay in the shifting sands.

"You're free of him now." She whispered, "we are _both_ free."

Resshin's twin tails lashed restlessly.

Around them, the wind rose and the sea began to murmur. The tiny Change Beast in Moya's arms mewled softly as the elements danced together—a storm was blowing in from the waters, but she was beyond caring, and instead reached to rub a smear of red from Resshin's brown fur.

This was not the Lord's blood—the life giving liquid that had stained Resshin's cheek came instead from Moya. From the wound the Lord had managed to inflict on her, seconds after she rammed the knife that now lay on the earth into his stomach. He had jerked back, of course, and her fingers caught on the blade, pulling it from him and at the same time biting into her own flesh.

Her blood had mingled with his, and his with hers. Even after the last traces of life ebbed from him, she could feel him with her. Angry. Violent. A dark presence, crouched in the shadows of her mind, and a stain on her being that she knew she would never again be rid of.

Resshin scratched at one of his huge batlike ears, and his nose twitched, stretching into the breeze—an angry roar began to rise from the sea, echoing across the shore—and the waters began to rise, splashing up onto the beach.

—and then—

—a Voice—

_:Sinner, defiled and damned—you are none of these things, Moya Velkya.:_

Beautiful as the dawn, and blindingly radiant, a shape rose from the swirling waves—wings of silver fire flared brightly, and the water retreated from its form, content to whirl at its feet and reflect its holy shine. Its Light banished the darkness of the approaching night as its depthless sapphire eyes lit upon the single figure in front of it, stained with blood and yet somehow still pure—

And Moya's heart welcomed the warmth of the Light, opening to it and accepting it thoughtlessly and helplessly, but with a newly blooming sense of hope. Eternal crystal pinned her where she stood, and illuminated even her soul, exposing everything she was and everything she had ever been.

"An angel of death."

The words were little more than a breath.

_:Not an angel of death, sad one.:_ That same wonderful, musical voice told her firmly, and a fleeting touch of its Mind left a feeling of love, acceptance and purity, scorching away everything else—including her memories—and filling an empty place in her heart that had existed for as long as she had lived. _:An angel of life... a Virtue. And you are to be Mine—:_

Its Light flared, forcing Moya's eyes closed—

—and when she opened them again, the darkness of the encroaching night had returned, replacing the holy Light. But unearthly blue eyes continued to pin her in place, as a beautiful silver form watched her from the shallows, illuminated by the setting sun and shining with a power all its own.

The creature in her arms made a stifled squeaking noise, and she looked down at him. A name came to mind, swimming up from a now-sealed place deep within her own being; "Resshin...?"

_:Yes, little one.:_ The Being told her comfortingly, _:yes_ Moya_, he is called Resshin.:_ The breakwater retreated, and the great luminescent stallion paced gracefully toward her. _:And I... I am named Phoenix.:_

The world fell away, and though her memories were gone she did not feel empty. Unconditional love rushed to fill the void—and she was no longer simply Moya. She was part of something greater, and a certainty that she no longer belonged in Tolmassar asserted itself.

She belonged somewhere else...

She had a purpose...

A reason for being...

Together, they were meant for greatness...

_:I am named Phoenix,:_ the new Companion repeated, _:and you, Moya, are my Chosen.:_

"Chosen..." she agreed vaguely, then; "...and now... to _Valdemar_."


	2. Crystal Memoirs

**Disclaimer:** Valdemar and concepts belong to Mercedes Lackey; this fic and original characters belong to Senashenta and/or Arach and/or Kierseth. :)

**Notes: **This chapter was written by Arach.

**CRYSTALLINE  
Chapter One: Crystal Memoirs  
By Arach**

Herald Moya Orden woke from her nightmare covered in a cold sweat. She couldn't fathom what it meant—she had no foresight—but it had been a recurring dream for months now.

It was always the same thing: a beach (where exactly she couldn't quite say, and Phoenix, if he knew anything, refused to speak), and she was with a man. She was dragging him—his mouth was gagged and his hands bound, and she pulled him on with a rope bound tightly, too tightly, around his neck. And then, and then she would—

_:Calm down, Chosen. Whatever it was, it never happened.:_ Her Companion assured her, easing her mind with feather-light Caresses.

And yet, she could not keep the sobs from welling up. She choked on her tears, holding her face in her hand as she wept, confused and feeling as empty as Before—

No, her mind told her. There was never a Before. Not ever.

She had faint memories of a childhood spent in Haven, in a middle-class family of..._jewelers_, her mind supplied. Yes, jewelers. But the family shop had gone up in flames, killing her father and mother and siblings. The only reason she'd survived was Phoenix, who came and rescued her, and Chosen her as he ran out the crumbling door.

She half-smiled: Phoenix had always loved drama.

She did not remember anything else; no friends, nor other relations. This was odd, but she never questioned it.

In the darkness, Resshin squealed and flew off from his perch to land amidst the bed sheets, purring as he rubbed against the young woman, and chittered with worry. She sniffed and managed a small smile, picking him up and cuddling him with infinite care.

Whereas Phoenix provided love and support on a mental level, Resshin satisfied her emotional needs on a physical kind, with hugs and cuddles Phoenix could not give her, as much as he tried.

She could feel Resshin's small head rubbing against her neck lovingly, the warmth of his breath making her skin tingle. Her fears eased, she cracked a bigger smile and let herself fall back on the bed. As he curled up against her, she let herself relax. Soon, she slept.

He waited. Not very long now, he knew: Moya, silly Moya... and stupid horse for making her forget.

Now she would be his—his mistress would be pleased.

He sharpened his knife with a stone, eyeing the blade malevolently. Such a shame they wanted her alive. He would have loved to see her scream, see her writhe as he cut her, marked her, raped her, killed her.

He knew the art of torture: there were so many painful things he could do to her, make her yell in agony, without killing her.

* * *

"Gods, I love this place. Especially when it's mine alone..." she murmured, taking a book from the shelf.

The Herald's Library was huge, and, considering the Sovvan festivities were going on outside, the great chamber was all but empty. The oil lamps on the walls hadn't been lit yet, as outside the sun retreated, casting its dying titian glow upon the scene of dancers and party-goers alive on the Palace grounds.

She dropped the large, leather-bound tome on the table in front of her and grinned with anticipation, sliding into a chair to read. Putting a finger to her lips to wet it, she carefully flipped through the pages, going back to where she had left off the previous day. A book on ancient Karsite culture: about the Burning Times, just before the great Solaris became Son of the Sun and Valdemar's traditional joined the Alliance.

She read avidly, until it became dark outside and all there was to read by were oil lamps on the walls and the lanterns outside.

As she moved to put the book back, another volume—this one set by the very end of her table—caught her eye. She frowned. Probably, a trainee had left it; Herald-Chronicler Shanna hated to see her books out of their shelves for no reason, and indiscriminately let this be known.

With a small, slightly disgusted sigh she trotted over to the book, eyeing it. The words, printed upon the cover in lovely sans-serif font, flashed silver. Behind it was the crest of Valdemar, white and blue, with Windrider, ever proud, rearing.

_'Haven Census, 1432'_ was the book: every three years the Crown made a head count of all those living in Haven, as well as every other town in the country. This was an old copy; it dated from about ten years back, the same year the fire ravaged her home and took her family.

Out of curiosity, she put back her novel and took up this new one, gingerly going through its pages, looking for the entry _Orden_.

There were about nine Orden families living in Haven-the name, after all, was not uncommon-but, to her astonishment, could find no "Moya Orden" amongst any of them. Surely she had been counted... or had she? She could not remember.

A bit shaken by this revelation, she set the book back in its place.

"Moya? Moya, there you are!" Her head snapped to attention as a familiar voice erupted across the Library, only to be comically shushed with equal volume by those few reading.

"Erm, um, Moya..." Herald Frittan murmured bashfully, grinning like a mischevious child caught in the act. His wispy red hair flared out like an aureole about his freckled face, granting him an ever-youthful air. His soft-shod feet made no sound as he stepped over to her, his Whites looking—were those ale stains?

_Knowing Frittan, they could be anything_, she mused.

Resshin, looking mightily pleased, sat upon the man's shoulder, preening. Moya tried hard not to giggle, but smiled widely in return. Frittan was one of her first and best friends, one of the few who could really make her laugh, and never asked questions she could not answer.

"Heyla, Frittan." She whispered back, ushering him out of the athenaeum. "So," she said, louder, once they'd made a decent number of paces across the tiled floor, "what's so important to make _you_set foot in such a horrid, terrible place as the Library?"

He laughed at her crack at his disdain for reading, and took her hand as Resshin leapt from his shoulder to hers. "Resshin and I were having so much fun outside; we nearly forgot you were still cooped up in here. So we decided we'd kidnap you."

She lifted a hand, gently brushing a finger against the little Change Beast's chin. "Kidnap, eh? Sounds like serious business."

"Absolutely." He said mock-gravely, and Resshin nodded, "It was all his idea, the crafty little bugger." The man winked, leading her out of the Palace grounds and onto the streets, where they were joined by Phoenix and Frittan's mare, Tsara.

_:Have a nice book-romp?:_Phoenix asked, nuzzling the side of her neck not occupied by a purring fluffball. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering him.

_:Yes, quite. And you, you incorrigible creature, have been taking gifts from the children again.:_

There was apple on his breath as he exhaled against her ear. He tossed his mane at her comment, looking as sneaky as a Companion could, _:You know they simply can't resist me.:_

_:You're terrible.:_she chuckled and batted his nose away playfully.

The night was spent with Frittan as he guided her down the streets, to various stands giving out treats of all kinds. Knowing the redheaded Herald, by the time most of the celebration was over, Moya was roaring drunk, much to her companions' amusement.

"Hey, Frit', look o'er there...yesse, I tolya this ain't th'way t'the palace..." Moya slurred, leaning on her much more alcohol-resistant friend. Hadn't they been this way before?

"I'm sure it isn't..." Frittan humored her patiently, grinning, an arm about her shoulders.

By this time, no one who passed cared much about a drunk Herald, seeing as most of the passer-by's were just as drunk themselves. It was probably the only reason Frittan had let her out of the pub.

She was suddenly overtaken by a thought: wasn't this a shortcut? She eyed the alley for a moment before catching Frittan's sleeve and pulled him along.  
"Come on, ish dish way!"

"But—"

She didn't give him any time to pause as she dragged him into the alley. Phoenix and Tsara whickered at them as they went, deciding to wait at the entrance of the alley: it was too narrow for Companions, and Frittan would probably manage to lead the drunken Moya back out.

Little did any of them know what awaited in the cold, damp dark.

_Silly, silly Moya…_


	3. Crystal Morning

**Disclaimer:** Valdemar and concepts belong to Mercedes Lackey; this fic and original characters belong to Senashenta and/or Arach and/or Kierseth. :)

**Notes:** This chapter was written by Kierseth. 8D

**CRYSTALLINE  
Chapter Two: Crystal Morning  
By Kierseth**

"Moya, I don't think this is the right way." Frittan said, a more than a little uneasy. The alley was dark and damp, with what little moon there was blocked by the surrounding buildings. He had been through this alley once before, and hadn't liked it then, in the day. At night, it wasn't much better.

"Suuure it is. I come this way... aaall the time." Moya slurred, flinging an arm out and stumbling on the uneven cobblestone of the alley's pavement. Frittan had to scramble to catch her.

"Come on Moya. Let's just get out of here." Frittan took her arm firmly in his grasp and tried to lead her out of the alley.

The girl stumbled and sat down on a crate. "Jush a minit." She said, holding her head between her hands, "Wait 'til the world stops spinnin'." She put out her arms and swayed. "Whoo!" She giggled.

Frittan dropped his head in exasperation and jumped when something touched his arm. He whirled around with a cry, belt knife in his hand as the thing that had touched his arm moved out of the shadows. It was a boy.

"Do ya need help?" The boy asked him.

Frittan paused and looked at Moya. She was still swaying, but had dropped her arms and was now humming a tuneless song. "Do you know the way out of here? Without climbing over anything?"

"Sure. I come through here all the time." The boy said, brushing back his dark hair.

"Could you help me get her out of here?"

"Yep." The boy walked to Moya's side and hoisted her to her feet. "Upsadaisy!" Frittan scurried to his side to help him steady the drunken Herald.

Moya looked through blurry eyes at the boy holding her up. "Don' I know you from somewhere?"

"I don't think so." The boy said, quickly dropping his head, and navigating around a half-smashed cart.

"Oh." Moya replied, "What's yer name?"

"You wouldn't believe me if you heard it." The boy said, fingering something under his tunic.

"Try me." Frittan broke in. He was curious about the boy as well. Why would a boy his age be out in the dead of night, alone on Sovvan?

His hand dropped to his side. "My name's Dipraiveon Illianyar Montegoet Lycanson, but most people call me Dip."

Frittan paused in midstep, causing Moya to swing from his shoulder and giggle. "What?"

"Me mam was Rethwellan. She liked the long names." 'Dip' said by way of explanation.

With Dip's help, they were soon on the other side of the alley. Phoenix and Tsara moved to help the pair and Moya was soon lying across Phoenix's back, passed out.

"Can you get her home Phoenix?" Frittan asked the stallion. Phoenix nodded. "Go then. I'll be there right after to help her inside."

Phoenix took off at a smooth canter, barely swaying Moya. Tsara snorted after them.

_:What are we waiting for?:_She asked her Chosen, a little short-tempered. She didn't have any patience for drunken behavior.

_:I want to thank this boy. 'Dip'.:_He answered, and turned to the boy. "Thank you for helping me with her." He pulled out his coin purse and extracted two gold coins. "Take these."

Dip pocketed the gold in a flash. "Thank ye!" He exclaimed. He turned and headed back into the alley while Frittan turned to mount Tsara.

Frittan looked back for the boy after he had settled in, but the boy was gone. He looked around to see if there were any houses, or at least, any doors in short walking distance from the alley. There were none. It finally hit him; the boy lived _in the alley._He was homeless. Frittan peered into the alley, trying to catch sight of the boy, but there was nothing. He sighed and signaled Tsara to move towards home.

Dip paused just inside the shadows of the alley. He watched as the pair of Heralds moved around the corner and sat heavily down on a crate. He reached slowly into his tunic and pulled out a thin silver chain. Dangling at the end, slowly spinning in a single shaft of watery moonlight, was a tarnished silver medallion. It glinted dully and he closed his hand around it, looking to make sure no one saw. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, he fingered the medallion a moment more, feeling the ridges of the raised crest. He then slipped it back into his tunic and walked back to his bed.

* * *

The next morning, Moya woke with the sun painfully in her eyes and the headache sent from the lowest of hells.

"Aaagh." she moaned, flinging an arm across her dazzled eyes.

_:Good morning, sleepyhead,: _an amused voice rang in her head, setting it to throb, _:have a nice rest?:_

:Yes, wonderful, thank you.:

She said shortly, cracking open one eye. It was full morning, from the amount of light in her room. She slowly sat up, one hand to her aching head. _:What did I do last night?: _She asked Phoenix.

_:Partied a little to much, methinks!: _He answered smugly.

Resshin flitted down from his perch and settled in her lap, a comforting warmth. She stroked the soft fur in time with the throbbing of her head. A knock sounded dully on her door, making her jump and earning her a glare from the just-settled Resshin. Booting him off her lap with an apologetic look, she walked slowly to the door, noting with a smidge of amusement that she was still fully clothed. She opened the door to a smiling Frittan, holding a tray with some rolls and a steaming teapot.

"Morning! For another half-mark, that is," he said, walking in and setting the platter on a side table. "If you feel as bad as you look, I think you'll be glad for this tea!"

Moya opened her mouth to retort, but stopped as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. He was right, she admitted to herself, she did look as bad. "Thank you." She said instead, "Did you have as much "fun" as I seem to have had last night?"

"Not quite," he admitted, scooting a chair next to the table, "you partook of quite a lot of ale. A good night to do it. Although you almost slept in an alley. Good thing that boy came along."

"What boy?" Moya asked, sitting on the edge of her bed and pouring herself a cup of tea. Frittan sat in the chair and grabbed a roll, while Resshin curled up next to Moya's leg.

"He said his name was "Dip". It was short for some outrageously long Rethwellan name. Unpronounceable. He helped me drag you out of this narrow alley you insisted was a shortcut." He bit into the roll. "Mmmm these are good."

"Was I that drunk that I couldn't walk on my own?" Frittan could only nod, mouth full of buttered roll.

_:That you were. You passed out the instant Frittan and the boy lifted you onto my back.:_Phoenix answered for him.

"Do you know where he lives? I'd like to thank him." Moya sipped her tea. It had finally cooled off enough to drink.

Frittan gulped and looked a little guilty. "I think he lived in that alley. I gave him a pair of sovereigns and when I turned back from mounting Tsara, he was gone. The alley was the only place he could have gone."

"Where is the alley?" She asked, head already feeling better from the one cup of tea. She poured herself another and ate a roll while she waited for it to cool.

"Between the Prancing Pony and Herald's Rest." He answered, swigging a cup of tea and gasping a little from the heat. He paused a moment, eyes a little unfocused. "Tsara's calling me." He said, back in the room, "I challenged Ty to a race over the endurance course and he actually took me up on it!"

Ty was Frittan's second cousin and had been recently Chosen.

"He thinks he and Larona can take me and Tsara. He's only known how to ride for a month!" Frittan snorted and rose, another rill in his hand. "You know, you might want to change before you go see Dip. You look a little... rumpled." He grinned.

"No thanks to you." She retorted. "I slept in these clothes!" Frittan only grinned back at her and left the room.

"Good luck with your race!" She called after him.


End file.
